


Surprise

by thepessimisticasshole



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M, almost god, angel au, angel baz, evil ish, i don't know what this is?, kind of, not a good angel though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6308596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepessimisticasshole/pseuds/thepessimisticasshole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Simon Snow arrives it’s not in a bang or a cloud or a chorus of heavenly singing (hell knows Basilton had enough of that back home) but there is a sort of pull in the net he’s strung up around the world. This baby- vessel, he amends- is eating up his Grace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: all characters belong to Rainbow Rowell.
> 
>  
> 
> I really don't know where this came from.

“Oh my god,” they say when he crashes to earth and rises, still smoking, out of his crater. “Oh my _god_ -”

He looks at them, considers for a long moment, then smiles. “Close enough.”

They don’t hear him. His smiles are thirty two nuclear bombs (not, of course, that those exist yet) and nothing could survive that.

Well. That’s not quite true.

He rights the land with a blink but doesn’t bother with the humans. They’ll spring back soon enough.

—

He learns to control it because constant destruction is unpleasant and tiresome to behold. He masks his wings and his terrible features and gives himself a new name- Basilton. (It doesn’t mean anything- he chooses it because it pleases him.)

The world passes around him and the humans become more and more corrupt and he watches them and laughs. The Deadly Sins creep around and he lets them because he doesn’t care- Greed and Sloth and War run rampant and when he grows bored he clicks his fingers and everything gradually rights itself. He is God, now, because God has left and he’s what remains.

He’s close enough. Good enough. Bad enough.

Whatever.

When Simon Snow arrives it’s not in a bang or a cloud or a chorus of heavenly singing (hell knows Basilton had enough of that back home) but there is a sort of pull in the net he’s strung up around the world. This baby- _vessel_ , he amends- is eating up his Grace.

Basilton lets it, because it’s probably the most interesting thing to happen in the last thousand years. He’s bored.

He takes a vessel himself- to view the proceedings from ground level, as it were. Another baby, barely four months old. The parents won’t know the difference, not that he cares. (The wraiths and demons in the house- that’s another matter. They know what he is, what he can do, and it terrifies them right out of their tiny minds.) He grows up, and the Creature grows up, and nothing happens until they’re eleven years old and the gradual pull becomes a yank that sends everything spinning.

 _Interesting_ , indeed.

“Something’s happened to the Magic,” his adoptive father tells him hurriedly. If he’d bothered to ask, Basilton could have told him that the Creature ate his Grace up until there was so little there that it Became something- but he didn’t ask. He probably wouldn’t have told him anyways. Humans understand so little.

—

Simon Snow is sunshine.

He’s the most Heaven he’s ever seen contained in a human- unsurprising, because it looks like he’s sucking up Basilton’s Grace. He’s suited for it. Maybe they’re soulmates.

Basilton doesn’t much care. He’s been alive for so long he’s probably met thousands of soulmates- you only need a slice of it to be deemed compatible. Snow must have at least half a soul matched with his.

That’s nice. Imagine having an Archangel for a soulmate.

(Imagine burning. That’s pretty close.)

—

He makes sure they become roommates so he has more time to study him.

He’s interesting, for a human. Or- maybe not a human. Snow’s not a demon, and he’s not an Angel, but-

Maybe he is an Angel. Maybe he’s a Lesser one, one Basilton wouldn’t know. After all, Archangels don’t exactly mingle.

He sends tendrils out, nudges memories out from his mind, examines every inch of the puzzle- and that’s interesting in of itself. Nothing’s really a puzzle to Basilton. Everything’s happened before. Nothing’s _new_.

In frustration one night, he digs out his soul, and it burns his palm as much as it soothes it.

—

Ah.

So this is what it means to have a perfect match.

—

He doesn’t like it. Being alone is much nicer, and having to share his Grace- it’s much more irritating now that he knows why. It’d be nice if Snow knew anything about anything, but-

No.

He’ll die soon enough. Whatever.

Maybe Basilton’ll help him out with that.

—

Snow mocks him like the entire world of Magic- the entire _world_ , really- isn’t due to Basilton. He has no idea what he he could do with less than a thought, how much he is straining his patience-

Basilton’s not used to being merciful. He doesn’t care for it.

He shoves him down the stairs- gently, because humans are ever so fragile- but that doesn’t seem to do much besides fire up his anger.

Wonderful.

—

When Snow grows wings they’re red and scaled and so like his little brother Lucifer’s that Basilton feels a pang of homesickness. (His own are gold and black and grey, and they’re glorious. They’ll also burn anyone who looks at them, so he doesn’t get to stretch them without making the news.)

They’re fascinating. Snow could fly with them, if he chose to, but he doesn’t. Something about being ‘normal’.

Basilton snorts.

He doesn’t share in his Grace as he used to but it doesn’t affect him as he should- sometimes Basilton slips up and speaks with a little bit of thunder entering his voice, and Snow doesn’t even scream. It’s unusual.

—

Basilton plays the good little soulmate for as long as he can bear it, acting as human as he can (although not even his vessel is fully human) and, when he gets bored, he pulls Snow’s soul out again and forces it into something bigger and better than it could ever hope to be on it’s own.

“You’re- you’re an angel,” it says, and Basilton smiles his terrible, worldbreaking smile. “No, you’re a _god_.”

“Surprise.”


End file.
